


All Is Not Lost

by phyncke



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, Minor Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:22:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29010474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phyncke/pseuds/phyncke
Summary: Maedhros and Fingon grow up together and develop more than a friendship during the Years of the Trees. They meet an elven woman who tells them their future but then she disappears. Who was she really? They never forgot what she told them.
Relationships: Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo
Comments: 4
Kudos: 3
Collections: 2021 My Slashy Valentine





	All Is Not Lost

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sylanna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylanna/gifts).



> Gwailir = Tolkien’s early name for Vairë (gnomish) meaning weaver.

Title: All Is Not Lost  
Author: phyncke  
Beta: aglarien  
For: My Slashy Valentine 2021  
Recipient: Sylanna  
Characters: Maedhros/Fingon, Fëanor, Nerdanel, Anairë  
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They are the property of JRR Tolkien and his estate. I have borrowed them for my own amusement and for yours, I hope.  
Summary: Maedhros and Fingon grow up together and develop more than a friendship during the Years of the Trees. They meet an elven woman who tells them their future but then she disappears. Who was she really? They never forgot what she told them. 

All Is Not Lost

Tiríon before the dawn of the First Age, Years of the Trees

From when he was a young elf, Fingon could not remember a time when he did not know Maedhros. They were like two peas in a pod, flip sides of a coin, and they would always finish each other’s sentences. They were the eldest child in each of their families and as such had an understanding of all that entailed for the other; the duties and responsibilities they would shoulder as they grew older. 

They could be found running through Tiríon as though the minions of evil were chasing behind them. There was really nowhere to go but they had to get there very fast. They would beg for coins to go to the candy shop and more often than not Nerdanel or Anairë would relent and give them some. They were of an age where they were still cute and their begging faces would melt their mothers’ hearts. If they had gotten coins from both of their mothers, their bounty from the shop would be large indeed and they would gorge themselves on confection. It might make them feel overly full but it was always worth it. They never regretted eating too much candy. They would sleep it off and be none the worse for it after a good long drink of clear river water. And a few days later, they would be ready to do it again, as though it had never happened. For elves, they had very short memories about certain things. 

They also spent a lot of time avoiding their respective siblings. Fingon’s sister, Aredhel, always wanted to tag along on their adventures and Maedhros had more brothers than you could count on one hand. It got tiring, to be honest, and they did not always want to show the younger ones how to do things like hold a bow or stay in a saddle. They always got scraped up or bruised and needed to go home to mama, and that was not what Fingon or Maedhros did. It was their custom to tough things out and soldier on. None of this running home for tending for them. They were made of sterner stuff. They avoided the younger ones as best they could and only played with them when ordered to by their parents, and then for as little time as allowed. If at all possible, they would ride out on their ponies in the morning and spend all day out in the wilderness, carrying food and water and avoid the lot of them for the whole day. 

On and on their childhood went until they grew taller and their hair grew longer. Maedhros had luxurious red hair like his mother, Nerdanel, striking in its brightness. He drew notice wherever he went. And while Maedhros was like flame, Fingon was like shadow, with hair just like Fingolfin’s, his father’s, dark and silky, hanging below his shoulders like a curtain. Most times their hair would get in the way so they would tie it back with a leather catch and still they would run around Tiríon as though someone were chasing them, though now their legs were longer. They made better time and got further. Their ponies were retired and now they had horses. They could ride out further distances to camp when they did not have schooling. They would go often and sleep under the stars, gazing upward and dreaming of adventures that they might have in the big wide world if they ever got out of Valinor. 

One such time, they came upon an elven woman living alone in a small hut. It was well outside of Tiríon and there was nothing else around it. The house was surrounded by a small thicket of trees to protect it from the wind and elements. 

“Come in, come in boys. I don’t see many people around this way. Come visit with me a spell and perhaps I will tell you your future, for that is my gift, the gift of foresight. There is much I could tell you if you would wish to hear it.”

Maedhros looked at Fingon and shrugged as if to say why not? He sauntered over to the shack and looked inside. It looked big enough for all of them to fit, seeming bigger on the inside than it was on the outside, if that was possible. 

“Well, well, young masters, do come in. I have tea brewing here because I knew you would be by, and I have some nice chocolate biscuits that I know you will like, for I know you like your sweets.”

“We do,” Fingon mumbled as he let his horse set to grazing.

“My name is Gwairil and I welcome you here. I know who you are Maedhros, son of Fëanor, and Fingon, son of Fingolfin, and much I have to tell! Come now as the day is short and my stories are long.”

They both felt no danger, for indeed there were no enemies yet in Valinor, and no one had ever been slain there. Maedhros felt a small tingle at the back of his neck and did not know what that meant, but he went into the small shack and it seemed to open up into more of a house. There was a nice room with a table and three chairs, and a small pot-bellied stove for heating water. He could see the kettle was hot, and a tea service was set out on the table with three china cups. There was a large tapestry on the wall made up of many colors, too many to count really. The weaving was intricate and complicated and unbelievably beautiful. 

Gwairil had flaxen hair with silver throughout and it was braided loosely down her back. Strands were loose around her ageless face and her eyes were a bright, shimmering blue. 

“Did you make that?” Fingon asked. 

“Yes, my child. I like to make things. Do you like it?”

Fingon nodded but could not say why he liked it. His feelings were muddled and he could not put it to words. He instinctively trusted this woman and felt safe here. 

“Sit down and have some tea, and I will read your cups when you have finished drinking them. There is magic in the leaves that you leave behind.”

Maedhros laughed, “I have never heard of such a thing!”

“Yes,” Gwairil laughed too. “There is much you do not know. You have not seen much of the world, yet. Sit.” Her voice was a bit sterner and they felt compelled to obey.

The tea had been sweetened with a bit of honey so they liked it quite a lot. They slurped and gulped it down quickly, leaving the dregs at the bottom with small leaves floating in the remnants of the liquid. 

“Very good, lads. Now leave those cups and eat your biscuits while I have a look. I’ll see what you have there in your cups.”

They had not noticed but four chocolate biscuits appeared on a dainty plate on the tray. They looked surprisingly delicious. They quickly handed her their cups and reached for the cookies. 

Gwairil looked from one cup to the other. “Hmm, well now. Hmm. Oh my! Uh hmm.”

Fingon and Maedhros chomped and munched away thinking that these were the best biscuits that they had ever had. They thought they’d eaten them all when more magically appeared on the plate. They grinned at each other and each took another. 

“Oh hmm now. Really.” Gwairil continued to stare alternately into their cups and make exclamations as though tea leaves had never been more interesting. 

“Well, lads.” She plunked down the cups and looked at both of them. “There is both good and bad. What do you want first?”

Maedhros looked at Fingon and arched an eyebrow, just like his father did at times like these, when a decision needed to be made. 

“Let’s take the ill tidings first,” Maedhros said. 

“There is darkness coming. It does not get more ill than that. I cannot tell you when, but darkness is coming and you two will be parted by great events that are beyond your control.”

Fingon sputtered. “What does that all mean?”

Gwairil explained, “I cannot see everything. I am only telling you what I can see.”

“Great,” they both said in unison.

“Now for the good tidings. You two will always be more than friends to each other, more than family. And when one of you has the greatest need, the other will be there so that all is not lost. You must keep this in your hearts and know this. Never forget. You will both be great warriors and fight in many battles. And that is all I have seen.”

Fingon caught the light shimmering on the tapestry and turned to look at it, and it seemed to him that it glowed in the lamplight, almost vibrating as her words faded away. It was as though the threads were moving while she spoke, and then they stopped. It must have been some kind of trick. 

“And now I am weary, boys. Truth telling always makes me tired, so I bid you to leave now so I may take my rest. Don’t forget what I have told you and tell no one else. This is for you to know and not to tell. Goodbye now.”

She shooed them out the door, almost rudely, and slammed it shut behind them and that was that. 

“Well, that was something,” Maedhros said as he whistled for his horse. “I don’t know what to make of it.”

“No one will believe us if we tell so we better not tell, like she said.”

Maedhros nodded. “Let’s keep this between us.”

They rode on to their camp site, which was some distance further, and spoke no more of what they had heard that day. Fingon committed the words to his memory so he would never forget what Gwairil had said. He felt it was important that he remember it exactly as she had said. 

Two days later, on their way back to Tiríon, they passed by the same thicket of trees and there was no little house there at all. Maedhros dismounted to look around while Fingon stayed on his horse. It was like the house had never been there. There was moss growing between the trees and had a house been there recently, there would not have been moss on the ground. 

“This is where she was and she is not here. The house is gone.”

“Look at the ground. It does not look like it was ever here,” Fingon said. 

“Well, that is perplexing and confounding,” Maedhros muttered. 

“She *was* here. Some kind of magic is afoot. That is the only explanation.”

“It is no explanation at all, Cousin. No one will believe us now. We cannot even take anyone to the house.” Maedhros kicked the ground.

“She told us not to tell and I mean not to. Her words were only for us.”

Maedhros scowled his displeasure and then finally agreed. “Very well then.”

Fingon had his own theory on who the elven woman had been but kept that to himself for now. Best not to trouble Maedhros with what might have been the Valar’s intervention in their lives. Such things were very serious and not to be trifled with. The tapestry on the wall had been the key clue to Gwairil’s identity, and Fingon surmised that she was one of the Valar in disguise, come to bring them these messages for some unknowable reason. Why do the gods do anything? It was beyond his ability to understand and so he could not really explain it to Maedhros. His cousin was not always the most observant of people, but Fingon felt relatively certain he was right. 

They made their way back to Tiríon and did not speak of it again for many years. 

/--/

Time went on and much was the same as they grew older. Maedhros and Fingon grew to their full height and became more muscular. They were both tall and imposing and seemingly formidable, and still kept company, even though it might not be the most politically expedient thing to do. Neither of their fathers approved of their friendship but would not forbid them from seeing each other outright, for that would lay bare the feud between them for all to see. It was hoped that each of them would find an elven girl and that would put an end to their closeness. It was very much desired that they would each marry, start families and forget their childhood friendship once and for all. 

As was custom in fine elven society, there were many events to go to, dances and balls, with the best families of Tiríon. The girls dressed in their finery, flirting with both Maedhros and Fingon who were wearing shirts buttoned up to their chins and shoes that pinched their feet. The orchestra played lively songs for dancing and neither of them wanted to dance with any of the very lovely ladies vying for their attention. It was all abysmal and awkward. They stood against the wall looking as though they wanted to be anywhere but there. Tonight, they were at one such event, and had to fend off many girls who seemed to want their attention. 

“Maedhros, my feet are killing me. I think my shoes are too tight.”

“Mine too, Cousin. I think they are not worn in. It is because they are newly made.”

“How long do we have to stay here? They won’t even let us try the wine. I was given apple juice for my drink. I think I am old enough drink wine.”

“Same here. We could sneak some wine and go elsewhere. This is tedious and I don’t feel like dancing, do you?’

“Eru, no!” Fingon exclaimed looking around to see who had noticed. 

“I have an idea. You go up to the bar and create a distraction, and I will try and get one of those bottles of wine, and then we can go to the stables and drink it.”

Maedhros looked at Fingon and waited until he nodded, and then moved across the room, stalking off like predator after prey. 

Fingon walked in the opposite direction and then veered around to the bar, trying to come up with a plausible distraction. By the time he got there, he had concocted an altercation in his mind that he thought would work. It would make him look somewhat foolish but that was neither here nor there, all for a good cause. 

He went right up to the bartender and demanded, “Give me a glass of wine! I am tired of this apple juice and I would like a real glass of wine.”

He could see Maedhros out of the corner of his eye and continued with his diversion, ignoring the impulse to look at his cousin. 

“Why, my young Sir! All the young people are drinking apple juice tonight. Your parents would not let you drink wine and so I cannot serve you the wine as you ask. I am sorry.”

Fingon feigned annoyance and rolled his eyes. “I am almost at my majority, I think I can have some wine.” 

He saw Maedhros slide a bottle of wine out of the wooden crate and move off out the door of the ballroom and down the stairs. 

“I am sorry, Sir. I cannot.”

He felt a hand on his shoulder and heard a laugh. “Where is the harm in it? Why not give him a taste of the wine. Just a small sip. If it matters so much to him.” It was his Uncle Fëanor urging the elf to serve him some wine. 

“Why yes, Sir. Right ho Sir.”

“A *very* small sip,” Fëanor insisted. 

The bartender poured the smallest amount possible in a crystal wine goblet and handed it to Fingon. 

“Here you go, Sir. As you wished.”

“Thank you.” Fingon could not believe he was getting any wine at all and stood staring at the glass. 

“Well, don’t just look at it, Fingon. Take a sip for that is all you have there, a sip. It is a very small amount of wine.”

Fingon looked into his uncle’s very blue eyes sparkling in the candlelit room, and then took the very small sip of the red wine that the goblet offered. It was smooth over his tongue and down his throat. It was such a small sip that it hardly left any after taste. He was not sure what all the fuss was about. Was that it, really? 

“You won’t get drunk from that little wine, so no harm in that. Go tell Maedhros that you had some. I am sure he is lurking around here somewhere.” 

Fëanor turned and looked for Nerdanel in the crowded room and seemed done with him. Luckily, his uncle had not seen his son earlier behind the bar stealing a bottle of the opened wine and so he left to go to the stables and find his cousin. 

He found Maedhros lounging in the hayloft and muttered as he climbed the ladder.

“I hope you have not drunk it all. That would be very vexing.”

“I have not even opened the cork here,” Maedhros laughed. “I have been waiting for you all this time. What took you so long?”

“If you must know, I was talking to your father. He got me a sip of wine, of all things.”

“He did? That is surprising. He would never have done that for me.”

“You don’t know that, Maedhros. He just might.”

Maedhros mumbled something Fingon did not understand and proceeded to open their pilfered bottle of wine. 

“I will have the first taste since you have already had some tonight,” Maedhros announced before taking a liberal gulp of the red wine directly from the bottle. He passed the bottle to Fingon and rested back against the hay. 

Fingon looked down the neck of the bottle before taking a swig. This was a much bigger portion of wine than he’d had earlier and it had much more flavor. He could taste the fermentation of the grape. It was still smooth but there was much more to it. 

“I think you have to drink a lot of wine to get drunk. I wonder if we have enough here to feel the effects?” Fingon mused.

“I hope so. Otherwise, what is the point then?” Maedhros said, grabbing the wine from Fingon and taking a long draw on it.

They passed the bottle back and forth between them, each drinking their fill until it was empty, and then they lay back on the hay to assess how they felt. 

“Maybe it takes some time to feel drunk,” Fingon mused. 

Maedhros looked over at Fingon and saw that his eyes were bright and his lips looked redder than usual. That must have been the wine on his mouth. He wondered what it would be like to kiss his cousin in that moment. He had never had that kind of thought before in his life. Maybe it was the wine making him feel that way. 

“Fingon, have you ever kissed anyone?”

“Besides my mother? Never.”

“Nor have I. “

Maedhros’ eyes looked sleepy as he looked at Fingon’s lips and could not stop thinking about it. He was quite obsessed by those kissable lips and the smoothness of his cousin’s skin in the lantern light. 

“Fingon, I think we should try it and see what all the fuss is about. It cannot be that big a deal. That way when we marry, we will know what to do.”

“You mean with each other.”

“Yes, why not?”

Fingon’s face flushed as Maedhros expression got more intent and focused. His cousin leaned close to him on the hay and he could feel his body against his own. 

“I don’t see why not. Then we will know.”

“Exactly. Best to know.”

Maedhros leaned over and pressed his mouth to Fingon’s, softly at first. He could taste the wine on his lips, and it was very arousing. He put his hands on his cousin’s arms and brushed their mouths together over and over, pressing more forcefully each time. He felt a corresponding tightening in his loins which he was sure had something to do with the kiss. 

He had closed his eyes, and now he opened them to look at Fingon and see what he would see in his friend’s expression. He was instantly encouraged by the look he received. There was a warmth in his cousin’s eyes akin to desire, something that he had never seen before there. 

“That was nice. Now it is my turn. I think I should kiss you.”

Maedhros lay back on the hay, his eyes half-closed and his red hair fanning out against the straw and murmured, “Of course, Cousin. Do your worst.”

Fingon smiled as he leaned over him, letting their breaths mingle as he got close to Maedhros’ face. He placed his hands on his cousin’s shoulders and softly pressed their lips together, tentative at first as he led their second round of kissing. He loved the soft feel of his cousin’s lips and kissed him over and over, letting their lips linger more and more each time. After some time, their mouths opened slightly and they played with their tongues, dueling in a dance of longing. 

Their moans punctuated the air of the hayloft and it was like a sweet serenade in the night air. Their bodies came together as they kissed more passionately, hips and legs conjoining and their erections rubbing together beneath the fabric of their leggings. Desire that they did not totally understand enflamed between them that night and would remain for all their long lives. 

Once they subsided and lay back against the hay, Maedhros laughed, “I cannot imagine doing that with a girl.”

“Me neither,” Fingon agreed. “But I guess that is what people do.”

“I can see why.”

Maedhros determined in his mind that they would be trying this at every opportunity and plotted to get Fingon to the countryside alone. 

“We should get back to the party before we are missed.”

“I am sure you are right, Fingon. Let’s make sure we don’t have any hay in our hair and clothing, and stash this bottle somewhere.”

They picked the hay out of their hair and clothing and restored their appearance to an acceptable neatness so they could return to the party, which was still going on inside the hall. On the way back into the room, Maedhros threw the tell-tale wine bottle out into a bin where it would not be noticed until much later and would not be credited to them. 

They spent the rest of the evening with their families, drinking apple juice and no one was any the wiser of their activities in the stable. But they would always remember what had transpired there, and wait for a time to renew their affections. 

/---/

Once desire is ignited, the flame lit, it is very hard to extinguish. Maedhros and Fingon would steal moments with each other in Tiríon, a ride here, an escape there, moments where they could steal kisses or an embrace but that would just fuel a growing frustration and pent-up passion between them. It was quite maddening. Because they were of an age, they had social obligations in town and could not get away as much as they had when they were younger. Used to be, they could take their horses and packs and ride off into the country. Now there were balls to go to and parties to attend and a social calendar to attend to. Free time was not something they had in abundance. One would think a tryst would be easier to plan but it was almost impossible. Stolen kisses were all fine and good but they both longed for something more. 

Some six months passed until the summer without any free time but finally Maedhros and Fingon could escape to the country outside of Tiríon for one of their camping trips. They got their mounts ready and before anyone could stop them, left the city at a gallop for the wilderness for a few days of respite. 

“Fingon, look here! This is where the hut was!” Maedhros called to his cousin at the set of trees they always stopped at to inspect for anything new. This is where they’d met Gwairil and she had told them their future, or a future that they did not understand. 

“And as usual, there will be nothing there. Even though we know there was.”

“Right,” Maedhros agreed. He did not get off his horse this time. He usually got off his horse to inspect the area and see if there was any evidence of the fortune-teller. This time he seemed in a hurry to get where they were going. 

“I think there was magic involved in what happened that day and that is the only explanation I can think of.”

“You are probably right. I think we are not going to find the answer and we just have to live with that until we know what she said is true. Only time will tell.”

Fingon did not answer but turned his horse back to their trail. They had half a day to go on to their campsite and they wanted to make it by nightfall. 

Later that night, with their bedrolls close together, after having cooked supper, they lay looking up at the stars that seemed so very close. The sky always seemed clearer out here, without the smoke from city chimneys or fires in Tiríon, the view of the sky was perfect and the stars were crisply outlined against the night sky. 

“It is a lovely night out tonight.”

“It is, Fingon. Yes.”

“Maedhros, do you think of me as much as I think of you? I cannot seem to get you out of my mind. I think of you constantly. I don’t think it is natural.”

Maedhros laughed at the torment he heard in Fingon’s voice and rolled over to close the distance between them, sidling his body along his cousin’s so he could whisper in his ear.

“If anything, I think of you more, for I dream of you, Cousin. I think of you when I wake and when I sleep. I cannot escape.”

“What do you dream of?” Fingon asked. 

“Your kisses and more.”

“More? What more is there?”

“I believe we can join our bodies, should we so desire.” Maedhros was planting soft kisses along Fingon’s jawline to punctuate his point and he felt his cousin’s breathe quicken at his words. He knew he was having an effect. 

“Do you so desire, Maedhros?”

“I do, very much, Fingon. I want to know you in every way I can.”

“I do too.”

Maedhros brought their lips together in passion as he leaned in with his body. His organ was already erect at their talk and it pulsed under his leggings. He had some idea of what to do and had brought some saddle oil with them to ease the way but it was all new to him and so he was unsure. He knew he wanted to make love to Fingon and was glad he felt the same way. 

They kissed and undulated for some time, letting the flame ignite between them as it always did. The ember was constant, bursting into flame as they moved together. Maedhros turned down Fingon’s pantaloons and rubbed his cousin’s erection with his hands, and was satisfied by the moans and groans his motions elicited. He reached for Fingon’s hand and urged him to do the same to his own member, and they spurred each other onto greater heights of passion. Almost to the apex but not quite there. Maedhros pulled their hands away. 

“Calm, Cousin. Not yet. It is too soon to spend. I have more planned. I have thought of little else than this for these long months. Take off your clothing.”

Fingon did so as rapidly as he could, tossing his shirt and leggings off to the side of their bedding. Maedhros got to his knees and fished around in his pack until he caught the small bottle of oil and took it up in his hand. He did not want to hurt Fingon and so he had brought this. He hoped they would make love to each other and take turns. 

Maedhros stood up and took off his own clothes too, throwing them to the side of their makeshift bed. The fire was still burning and throwing off light and heat and he could not take his eyes off Fingon’s muscular form. He felt his own desire grow as if he was fanning the flames of his lust and he took in every muscle and sinew of his cousin’s lithe body. Fingon was very beautiful to behold and he responded in turn. The night was cool but his body felt warmer than the fire would allow. 

“You are beautiful, Cousin. I have always thought so.”

“As are you, Maedhros.” Fingon drew close to him and placed a hand on Maedhros’ chest, feeling the skin over his heart. It was smooth to the touch but heated from within. 

“Let’s lie down and we can try this.” Maedhros held up the vial of oil. 

Fingon’s eyes widened in understanding and he nodded. His red-haired cousin pushed him to the ground and moved over him, renewing his interest in the most passionate of ways. With no clothes between them, they touched skin to skin and the friction was delightful. Their movements became more intense and frenzied until Maedhros pulled away to pop the cork of the bottle. He poured the liquid onto his hand and then coated his erection liberally, moaning softly as he did. He positioned himself behind Fingon and parted his taut buttocks, positioning himself at his entrance. 

“I think there is some pain, the first time,” Maedhros whispered. 

“Just do it, Maedhros. I want to feel you.”

So he did and when he was fully in, he stopped because Fingon was breathing very hard. It was very difficult to stay still but he did not want to hurt his cousin so he would wait as long as he needed. He could feel every movement Fingon made and so knew when his body relaxed. He began to make love to him with slow movements of his hips and was glad for the oil easing his way. He nuzzled Fingon’s hair and reached around to his now erect member and began to stroke him in time with his own thrusts. This was glorious. He felt the sensations, heat and agony, in every part of his body. This joining, it was magnificent. Before too long, he had to pick up the pace and became more frenzied until he found his release. He kept working on Fingon until he too spent into the grass. 

They pulled apart and lay looking up at the stars alight in the sky. Elbereth seemed to be shining down on their union this night. 

“What are you thinking, Fingon? Did I hurt you?” Maedhros chewed his lip, worried that his cousin hated him now. 

“It hurt at first, yes. But soon that gave way to a lovely feeling. I want to do that to you tomorrow. I really do.”

“And you shall, Cousin. This I promise. You shall.” Maedhros laughed heartily, glad for all the world to be here at this time with Fingon. 

“I will hold you to that.” Fingon yawned. “But let us sleep now. Look! A shooting star! That is good luck.”

And indeed a star had shot across the sky, trailing its tail over the field of twinkling lights. It seemed to portend good things for them or so they thought. Maedhros pulled their blankets over them and took Fingon into his arms, and they slept the sleep of the well-loved.

The next night, after a day of swimming and hunting for game, Fingon did indeed make love to Maedhros, and made him feel all that Fingon had the night before. They became lovers in secret, and were known as boon companions in public. 

/---/

It was many years before Gwailir’s predictions came to pass, many years before darkness fell and the Trees were sucked dry by Ungoliant. Melkor stole the Silmarils from Formenos and thus began a chain of events that would cause Maedhros and Fingon to be separated. They’d had many happy years together in Valinor, years to fall in love and spend together as lovers. 

Events drove them apart and brought them together again in Middle Earth. As Maedhros hung upon Thangorodrim from one arm, and heard his love sing to him from below. He saw the most beloved face come near on the back of the noble King of the Eagles. The one he loved would not heed his wish to die there, and as he felt the blade on his wrist and the knife cut into his flesh, that act of desperation cut him loose. He was once again in his lover’s arms and free from torment. The words of Gwailir came to mind and he knew that “all is not lost” and they could be together. He saw the ground passing fast below and felt the pain in his wrist, and he knew all would be well. Fingon was here and all would be well. 

The End

Gwailir = Tolkien’s early name for Vairë (gnomish) meaning weaver.


End file.
